“And do you play your own music?” “Sometimes.” “What’s that look about?” “What look?” “You’ve got this . . . pinched look about you.” I scrunch my eyebrows a few times. “Better?” “Do you not like your own music or something?” “It’s not that,” I say. “I just . . . well, it’s not for everyone.” Jack squints at me. “And how’s that different from any other type of music?” I blink at him. I’d never really thought of it that way. “I guess it’s not.”
